Page 30 of Worth the Trouble

Her shoulders relax with my question, and some sick part of me finds relief in the fact that I have the power to calm her as much as I seem to be able to wind her up.

“Yes.” She glances around at the furniture all pushed against one wall. “Although, I guess it makes for an odd entertaining space when there are guests.”

“Screw ‘em.” I shrug. “Your house, your rules.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “This coming from a guy with stripper poles in his living room.”

I tip my head back and laugh, hard. And when my gaze falls back on her, I appreciate that I’m met with amusement instead of disgust.

“What can I say, I appreciate the arts.” I wink, and the faintest blush climbs her cheeks.

“I’m sure you do, Rome Moreno.”

Something about the way she says my full name. How she’s small but infinite. How she’s delicate without being the least bit fragile. She’s a force to be reckoned with.

“Need proof?” I lace my fingers together and cup the back of my head. “Dance for me and I’ll show you just how much I appreciate the arts. You’re supposed to be practicing anyway, aren’t you?”

Lili’s head tilts, and I wait for a perfectly punctuated“fuck you”to fall from her lips. But instead, she rolls her shoulders back and stands up.

“I’ll tell you what,” she says, sashaying to the center of the empty space, before running her foot in a semi-circle along the floor like she’s about to glide over water. “You tell me one real thing about yourself, and I’ll dance for you.”

“Something real?” I’m honestly not sure why she cares, which has me both curious and on edge.

Lili holds a finger up in the air, pointing it in my direction. “And not some rehearsed response you give in interviews.”

“Been spending time on the internet stalking me again?” I grin.

She rolls her eyes, immediately seeming annoyed that she let me see her do that. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m in the industry—or a similar one anyway. I know how it is to only show them what you want to.”

“Fair enough.”

We might come from different worlds, but we’re no doubt faced with similar devils. Being in the spotlight means everyone seeing you and no oneseeing you, all at once.

“I’ll tell you something real.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, watching her as she kicks a leg up and stretches, making me wonder why I didn’t fuck her against the wall earlier. “But then I want something real in return. Not a performance. I want to see you dance how you’d do it if it was just for you.”

This is dangerous territory. Drifting to parts of the ocean that look too close to the Bermuda Triangle. I’m saying shit I know better than to say to a chick because I don’t need attachments.

Lili nods once, and I feel her defenses slip away, even if only for a moment. Breaking my stare, she walks over to a side table and grabs her phone off it, starting to flip through, pausing only to glance in my direction.

“So, Rome. Ready for your question?” Her teeth run over her bottom lip.

“Fire away.” I don’t lean back or relax. Instead, I can’t help but stay hyper-focused on her.

She scrunches her nose at something on her phone screen. She’s tapping her toe on the ground and biting her thumbnail, and I wonder what got to her just now. But then her eyes meet mine and she seems to catch herself fidgeting, so she stills as she presses play on her music.

I feel her question in the air before a word gets out. Weighted. Dangerous. Her hands slide up her body and into her hair, before tugging the hair tie out and letting her black hair fall like silk over her shoulders.

“What makes you happy, Rome Moreno?” Lili asks, tossing her hair tie onto the couch and making her way back into the center of the room.

I laugh, assuming I must have heard her wrong, because of all the things people want to know about me—where my scars come from, why I hide them, why I’m a detached asshole—what makes me happy isn’t one of them. But Lili stops in the center of the room with a flat expression on her face, and it makes my smile fall.

“What makes me happy?” I repeat her question and she nods in response.

Leaning back, I stretch my arms over the couch and think about it because I’m not sure I’ve thought about the answer to that question in years. I know what keeps me satisfied, what keeps me going, what drives me.

But happy?

I look her dead in the eyes and can’t help the weight that forms on my chest. “I’ll tell you when I find it.”

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